Reprieve of War
by ForestEyes22
Summary: Before the betrayal, but after the kiss, Clarke is swept up in a night of exotic dancing. But where is the Commander? *Oneshot (My tenses, dialogue are always bad. But something I dreamt about last night)


"We invite Skykru to an evening of our people's entertainment as an offering of alliance" Lexa's voice rose above the budding cheers from the clans. The people of the ark looked at each other in bewilderment and Lexa laughs at some frightened faces. "I would also like to reassure Skykru that entertainment in the reprieve of war merely is an evening of dancing, tale weaving and skol", an even louder unanimous cheer went up and Lexa and Clarke found each other smiling at the other. The ground disperses and the camp quickly dissolves into excited discussions about preparations, food, music and Clarke feels a rare moment of pleasure as she sees Monty follow into the tent of some musicians, animatedly gesturing. She glimpses Lexa's cloak disappear into her tent and went to follow. Indra's hand blocks her. "Hedda is making preparation for the night ahead. No one is to see her until the night is over, when she may choose her lover". Clarke's eyes widened in shock "I'm sorry, a lover? And why does she have to remain in her tent, I have some important things to discuss about the Mountain I know she'd want to here, there may:".

"Enough", Indra states simply. "No one talks of war tonight, leader of SkyKru. Tonight is the night before Midsomar, and we dance for the longest day, and the longest day for pleasure. Traditionally the Commander chooses a lover for one day only. This is the day". Indra warns her with her fierce eyes and stalks off, limping slightly. Clarke stared after her, taken aback and quieting the part of her brain whispering something about being chosen with a shake of her head.

Octavia and Clarke strip down in the roomy tent they'd been allocated to get ready in, Clarke rifles noncommittally through her pack for clothes, already knowing that this night will end in utter disaster. Octavia braids her hair, sitting on the bed, a white leather dress hanging next to her. "Clarke, you have to make an effort for tonight. We all know you could live in jeans forever but Lincoln told me that Trekru take this day very seriously, It's like Christmas" Octavia grinned "but sexier". Clarke rolled her eyes, she'd seen many Grounder girls giggling and braiding hair, holding short dresses up to their bodies and offering serious advice. "I'm sure no one will mind if I come with my jeans on and clean my jacket a bit. I have absolutely nothing to wear Octavia" throwing a bloodstained shirt out of her bag, "not everyone has a grounder lover who gifts them with expensive clothes" . Octavia smiles and touches the fine leather, and then her eyes widen at the noise of a person entering. From the hairs rising on the back of her neck, Clarke already knows who it is. And when a clipped voice begins "Clarke, I have brought you some clothes to wear for tonight", Clarke's eyes pop out their head and she whips round, ignoring Octavia's chuckle. The commander stands uncomfortably by the door, avoiding eye contact probably, Clarke thinks, because of her disrobe. Lexa's eyes rove the room almost comically as Clarke walks over and is drawn to the black silk draped on her arm. And is thrilled by the way it feels on her fingertips as she gently takes it from the Commander's arm. "Lexa", she breathes, "I don't know what to say…It's beautiful". The long, deep V-necked dress flew in layers and some part of Clarke's mind was reminded of Lexa's blood. She looks up into her face wonderingly and Lexa swallows "It was made by the Eastern traders, it would be my honour if you could wear it tonight". She nods cursorily at Octavia, sweeps over Clarke and almost flees the room. Clarke holds the dress in both hands and stares after her. A low whistle comes from the bed, "Boy o boy, let's get the dancing over with, I know exactly who _she's_ gonna pick for her night" Octavia chuckles and misses a cushion thrown at her head.

Clarke feels like the night is just beginning as black silk sweeps over her with every movement, almost making her invisible in the night apart from her linked arm with Octavia's startling white tunic. She's surprised to find she feels powerful and almost sexy in the thing, and she can feel it in the way she walks to the lantern lined tent and the eyes of some of the grounder men as people congregate towards it. The air is humid, and Clarke wraps a stray braid from her beading forehead, Octavia squeezes her hand reassuringly as they enter the tent. The smell hits them both simultaneously, a strong musk flows into their brains and spices assault their senses pleasurably. The lighting is dim and warm, candles flickering seductively around a centre risen stage, red and gold curtains with embroidered horses and beasts are covering the walls, flowing to the floor where dozens of people are seated cross legged and drinking. Her eyes scan the crowd, looking for a dark eyed Commander, but the search is fruitless and Octavia pulls her down and Clarke reluctantly sits with a bug of anxiety creeping in her belly.

Eventually, with honeyed mead resting comfortably in her belly instead, her eyes begin to rove over splendour of this moment and begins to anticipate the early evening's entertainment. A cheer goes up somewhere behind her and a drummed tempo beats slowly, the grounder's eyes closed as a rhythm began to overtake him. A woman is sat with an instrument between her legs that Clarke had never seen before, a long guitar; the out of reach strings seemingly easy to touch for the musician. The notes seemed to be plucked from a world Clarke had never dreamed about, and the flute like instrument raised her anticipation as the mouth of the hard lined grounder guided seductive notes into the humid air. The grounders on the floor in front of her whispered and fell silent, and Clarke craned her neck to catch a better glimpse of the stage as the music fell silent. A goddess slunk onto the platform in front of her, face downcast, her lithe brown body draped only in a sheer, fine fabric, softly masking the bejeweled and revealing costume underneath. A tambourine shook the nerves in the room and the woman's face flew from her silken cover in cue. All air seemed to be sucked from the room in those few seconds, Clarke's gasp audible to the people nearest her, who turned to smirk and quickly trained their eyes back on their commander.

The flute began to sing hauntingly, and Clarke's breathing sped as Lexa's hands rose above her head in a graceful ark, eyes still downward facing as her hips swayed to a new beat in the most controlled and beguiling way Clarke had ever seen, stomach muscles rolling, and Clarke stared in fascination. Her eyes ran up the body of the Commander, tracing the outline of the bralet and feeling the flush come from behind her skin as the music took an even more seductive melody, keening into the humid tent. Still her eyes were lured up the form of the swaying and turning woman, and met kohl lined eyes staring intensely into her own. Lexa had found Clarke in the crowd, and now she was dancing for her. The realisation had Clarke grow impossibly warmer and her mouth fell slightly open, and in response, the commander looked up and down Clarke's body as she began to shake faster, her green eyes smoldering and her lips turned up into a satisfied smirk. It began to feel constrictive for Clarke, her clothes stuck to her sweating skin, her world shrinking to the size of that beautiful woman on stage, moving her strong, unrelenting body to exotic symphony in a way that had Clarke struggling to breathe. Lexa was continuously holding her eyes captive as she moved, and Clarke insides twisted sharply and rubbed her legs together to try and relieve uncomfortable friction. Lexa's face was flushed, glowing bronze in candlelight, shadows highlighting the exquisite beauty of her face and a smile all too aware of her own effect on the room.

Lexa was enjoying dancing for Clark, as her people had seen the birds do for centuries. She loved the way Clarke was looking at her and touching her with her eyes. It felt like making love in secret code, out in the open and Lexa began to make a motion with her body that left no imagination for Clarke what she was dancing about. She saw the blonde sip her drink quickly and shift uncomfortably, which had Lexa smile predatorily. The tempo rose as she began to spin faster, the deep beats of the drum reaching its crescendo and Clarke felt her heart begin to run even faster watching this warrior Princess move her body, _oh God, this way_. Her mind conjuring indecent images of the commander writhing beneath her like waves colliding, the moans of the flute instead originating from the full lips of the commander. And with each image fitting with the real performance on the stage, her stomach felt tighter and Clarke felt a rising panic and shame as she felt a release howl through the bars, she looked into the Commanders eyes, trying to convey her panic with her face as her thighs clenched together. The Commander dragged her finger across her face and lips and nodded almost imperceptibly at Clarke, granting her her pleasure gladly, watching her all the while as Clarke's head fell back slightly with her eyes tight shut, her chest rising and falling rapidly and her legs quaking. Warmth flooded Lexa's body as she stumbled once and then moved to finish with composed grace, drawing out the last sways with the plucked notes of the guitar. The room fell silent. Lexa bows deeply and a cheer erupts throughout the tent, the crowd stand up, mercifully masking Clarke's trembling body as the Commander slinks off the stage.


End file.
